


261

by Susan



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susan/pseuds/Susan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t believe it was really going to happen until it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	261

The academy taught them the basics. What to do. What not to do. The rest they learned on the street. 

They learned that having a police woman in the room when they took a statement made things easier for everyone. They learned not to judge the victim’s clothes, or history, or job. That fathers raped their daughters. That alcohol or drugs were no excuse. That even hookers got raped. They learned that no one ever asked for it. Finally, they understood that all evidence to the contrary, rape had nothing to do with sex. It was about violence and power and control.

All these things should have made it easier for both of them when it happened to Starsky. It didn’t.

It didn’t make it easier for Hutch, who found Starsky two days later, still tied to the bed where they left him, bleeding and barely conscious. Hutch stayed calm long enough to call an ambulance and get him to the hospital. He said and did all the right things, then went home and wept for what they had done to Starsky. 

It didn’t make it easier for Starsky. Not while it was happening, and not after. He’d been hurt before, but all he’d felt those times—beat up or poisoned or shot—was anger. An itch to get back on the streets—make the bad guys pay for what they’d done. He’d never felt ashamed before. 

And although he and Hutch had talked dozens of women into testifying, had used words like justice and empowerment and recovery, Starsky knew he’d never agree to testify. He didn’t tell Hutch, but he half-hoped the men would never be caught. And he didn’t tell the therapist they made him see twice a week for two months, that he thought it was own fault. For blowing his cover. For acting the tough guy too long. “Let’s fuck the pig,” one of them had laughed, standing over him. He was curled up on the dirty floor, breathing hard. So far they’d only broken one rib, maybe two. Bloodied his nose. “Same way he was planning to fuck us over. Put him on the bed.” 

He didn’t believe it was really going to happen until it did. Until he felt hands unbuckling his belt, pulling his jeans roughly past his hips. Even then, he didn’t quite believe it. 

Later, Starsky wondered if Hutch would ever touch him again. He saw how Hutch guilty looked. They’d played with cuffs a few times, acted out a fantasy that turned out to be nothing like the reality. 

“You’ll get over this,” Hutch told him. It’s what they said to all the victims.

“Liar,” Starsky said. “I can’t believe anyone ever falls for that Pollyanna bullshit.” 

“Give it time.”

“Any more platitudes?”

“Just one. I love you. And I’m patient.”

“That’s two.”

 

The first time they made love, two months and one week after it happened, it was Starsky’s idea. He had a few requests—lights left on, he wanted to be on top, and Hutch had to keep talking. Hutch said he’d wear lacy underwear and sing the national anthem if he thought it would help. It had all the spontaneity of a drill march. And half the fun.

They tried again a week later. No requests this time, just a six pack and a football game as foreplay. This time Starsky didn’t flinch when Hutch reached for his cock. This time, while Starsky still remembered what they had done to him, what they had made him do to them, it seemed separate from this. Separate from the feeling of Hutch’s mouth on his cock, his hands on his hips, pulling him closer, over and over. And he knew that was how it was supposed to be. Not just the sex, but the connection. That any chance at happiness they had came from that. 

They held on to each other. Tried to hold the pieces together. 

The street taught them the basics. The rest they learned together.


End file.
